


Fur in the Cross-Stitch

by High5Nerd



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Jaws of Hakkon, Man I'm really bad at tagging, Oral Sex, Romance, Unplanned Pregnancy, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/High5Nerd/pseuds/High5Nerd
Summary: The Inquisitor has been off, and Cullen noticed that upon her arrival from the Frostback Basin with Varric and Dorian. Whatever is bothering Maeve, must be on her mind for months now...





	Fur in the Cross-Stitch

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I intended this to be nothing but fluff and make it readable for a Teen rating, but I couldn't help myself at a certain part. I think you all know what I'm referring to.  
> I might make Maeve's and Cullen's storyline in my DA gameplay a full story, but probably not until after my BOTW fanfic is completed. In the meantime, I hope this will suffice.  
> The ending is shit, I'm sorry.

Varric and Maeve had another passive argument that caused her to hide away in her room again. Cullen could understand how her unbearable puns could get the best of herself, but after their return from the Frostback Basin, he didn’t understand what snapped. All she did was look at him, her eyes tracing over his massive cawl made out of bear fur, and with a sly grin said, “Commander, did you shave this morning?”

He quirked a brow at the odd question. “I...yes? Just a trim. May I ask why, Inquisitor?”

His mind quickly skipped from wondering why they were addressing each other by their professions like old times, to noticing how nice her little dimple looked in her left cheek with that grin of pure mischief. She grinned at Varric and Dorian.

“I was wondering why he looked so…’bear’-faced.”

Something pulsed in Dorian’s neck, and his elegant mustache twitched with a hidden smirk before covering it with a cough, then delivered the usual facade of his disapproving look he gave Maeve whenever she didn’t act with decorum. Cullen couldn’t help but fold his arms, smirking slightly at Varric’s face turning pink with a furrowed brow and a grumble.

“Am I missing a joke here?” he asked lightly.

He was expecting a story. That’s everything that poured from the dwarf’s mouth. He was completely caught off guard when Varric’s teasing tone was hinted with anger.

“Curly, imagine listening to every damned bear related joke you could possibly imagine for four hundred and sixty two miles. Muffin over here won’t give it up. I admire her unwavering tenacity to stretch a joke that long.” he jutted a thumb in her direction.

Varric didn’t see her visibly wince at that, but Cullen definitely did. What underlying reactions that went under the table for the others, he saw like an open card draw. She was definitely aware of that.

Maeve tried to grin through it, but Cullen could see fire crackling in her chocolate and gold speckled eyes. “Well your career stretched on this long as well, my guy, that’s pretty tenacious and funny as well.”

“I’m getting a drink. Cullen, you coming? I heard they have a new brew they’re trying out.” Dorian slapped the commander’s shoulder in encouragement. Cullen watched Dorian’s silvery robes flutter behind for a moment towards the tavern, then cast a worried glance at his love in a heated joking-argument with the dwarf.

He couldn’t help but feel that something else was off. He noticed her strange behaviors as they dressed for the day she departed for her mission in the Basin. Then, she was silent, almost a tad bit jumpy at every gentle kiss he gave or every encouraging hand squeeze he offered. He worried he was being too rough with her. Now it was just as peculiar. She wouldn’t be making this many jokes all of a sudden, especially after the losses they’ve suffered and the looming threat of the chantry that still imposed over them. Not to mention Solas’s disappearance…

Maybe he should let it alone. She and Varric always can work out things like true friends do, he had no place to play middle man.

 

Maybe it was the hops-infested brew. Maybe it was the fact that it was his fourth and his cheeks were already starting to tinge a light color of pink from the alcoholic backlash. Dorian couldn’t enjoy the taste like he could, and now was sipping casually on his second glass of sweet wine like time wasn’t slipping away in the slightest. The commander ran his hand through his hair with a sigh, leaning against the edge of the bar. His stomach was starting to crave the feeling of soft linens of a feather bed and that warm woman who bore the herald’s mark.

“That’s the fourth time you sighed like that.” Dorian noted, casting a sideways glance at him.

Cullen blushed. “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re worried about her. I’d be upset if you weren’t.”

The lionhearted man looked up at the mage from his slumped position. The lingering reminder that he should be sitting more upwards in case any of his soldiers saw him in this state probed into the back of his mind, but the alcohol was starting to blur out the idea of keeping up appearances. Normally he could handle his drink considerably well. After all, the life of a soldier usually leads to an iron-strong stomach with a tendency to develop a need for a good strong drink and still walk by nightfall for rounds later in the hour.

Admitted, he was upset. Not miserable, per se. A better emotion would be, mildly putting it, disappointed in himself. He felt guilt gnawing away at his gut where the beer sat uncomfortably.

“I don’t know what happened on the trip back but...is Maeve alright? She seemed so happy until Varric--”

“Lost his temper? Trust me, I would have, too. Half of them were funny, yes, but...boy, was it a long trip.” Dorian sighed, hesitated, and then took a deep drink from his cup.

“Why? She was only having fun. Varric had no right to attack her like that. He’s a good man, I...And I just stood there like an idiot and left for her to deal with. If I could’ve just-”

“My dear boy, you can’t just swoop in and save the day every time she has a problem.” Dorian rolled his eyes.

The commander pulled another long sigh from his lungs. He wouldn’t be surprised if hair started shedding from his scalp from how many times he ran his roughened fingers through it. “I know...Herald. Inquisitor. Mage. She can handle anything….”

“You give up too easily. How pathetic, honestly, wiling away over tasteless beer with a pretentious sod like me when you could  _ comfort  _ her instead of  _ shielding  _ her.” the necromancer said with a sly smile gracing his lips.

Cullen looked at him, strands of golden locks falling into his forehead. “I shield, yes, isn’t that what I’m supposed to do? That is my duty.”

Dorian shook his head, putting his cup of wine down. “Cullen, there’s a difference between duty and a relationship. Now, it seems ironic that the man telling you this has been in nothing remotely admirable situations to call a relationship, but I know for a fact that anybody in any romantic situation would rather have someone to lean on than never learn to defend themselves,”

Cullen blinked, then stared into the empty stein in front of him, only light frothings left in its previous wake. The barkeep’s shadow appeared before him, and asked if he would like another, but Dorian requested two small helpings of bread and butter to go with the ‘delectable atrocities.’

“She’s been different lately. Even before we left...and I mean different than when Solas left.” Dorian’s voice now sounded lower, coming from the heart more from the area around it.

Steely eyes met dark amber, worried. He knew Maeve was broken-hearted after her close friend left. With no word, no written letter of apology, no trace...his upper lip curled in a snarl at first. His mind kept chanting the word  _ ‘traitor’,  _ but he knew that was only vile hatred against the fade mage for hurting her so badly. Maeve was so broken by his leave and weary from the final battle with Corypheus, as well as the impending wars yet to come, that she didn’t speak for days. Sometimes, she couldn’t even will an appetite. Both of them know she only ate what he gave her just to make him worry less, but…

The sight of her, all light and laughter that used to emanate in rays of sunshine were gone. The only reminder that the light was once there was depicted on the stained glass windows in the throne room, enveloping the yellow rays with emerald elf root, and at its center, the symbol of Andraste. For months, she walked as she usually did, but her eyes felt like a darkened room at nightfall, with no fire to keep them warm. Her kind smile felt hollow, weak, like an effort to keep alive, and Cullen had to watch her body wither into her insecurities and past mistakes she felt responsible for that caused her friends to disappear one by one. It took months even from that point on to help her see that no one wants to truly leave, that their dedication to their duty is the only thing making their paths diverge. He held her hand through the tears, brushed her hair when she felt like nothing but an empty shell, and he could see with each gentle stroke through her deep earthen locks that she was starting to let go. Her body was becoming less stiff and unsure. Every whispering promise that everything will come around, every comforting joke Varric cleverly delivered and every sarcastic jab at others that Dorian gave to make her smile eventually brought her light just barely back to resemble the flame of a single candle. Cole showed dreams of souls once lost that found their peace that reminded her that she isn’t alone in her journey, and Iron Bull and Sera provided an excellent companion for mischief around Skyhold, at least enough to make a small giggle come forth from her mouth.

It was a start. Cullen knew this would take time. She was exhausted, weary of everything and the whole world waltzing precariously on her shoulders. Sometimes she still suffered bouts of small pain from wounds acting up that no longer physically bore a mark. The memory of them frightened her awake. But he never stopped internally commending her for her effort to regain her light, to try to smile at every sneaky card trick Varric tried getting past her as they played Wicked Grace, or to attempt a dare that Iron Bull bet actual coin on in the training yard.

It was a process. To see her acting like none of the pain ever occurred once she came back from her mission was strange beyond words. Unless she was possessed by demons who were trying too hard to make her seem normal, something was off. He knew that, even in the warm fuzzy haze of a happy belly full of of alcohol.

“It’s not only that,” Dorian’s voice brought back Cullen’s attention, “She kept getting feverish during our mission, too. Always coming down with a temperature or a nasty cold. Of course, she powered through it, but Varric and I were worried she was pushing her limits instead of taking a day to rest. We were more than ready to be a day late for our arrival for her to get better.”

That terrified Cullen. His head snapped in Dorian’s direction, “She was sick? She never told me that in her letters!”

Dorian didn’t have time to calm him down, the commander was already out the door and running across the way to the tower where her chambers lay. By the time he reached the stairs, his gait slowed to a walk, making sure his heavy footsteps alerted her of his incoming visit so she wouldn’t be surprised at his impromptu appearance. His mind rushed as it usually did, especially around concerning her.

He’ll always worry about her. Even in times they shared of pure joy, like they did on the lake as they sat with their legs entangled on the dock in the Hinterlands, or even as she played chess with him in the garden at sundown, he knew he would always worry if she ever felt not in the right place. Those sweet and lighthearted moments made his heart soar, and he knew he was not alone in feeling that, because she would blush and her fingers would wrestle together in nervousness as she confessed how being with him made her feel hopeful for the future, that she forgets all her responsibilities and concerns. He loved being with her in those good moments, and moments that she suffered in. She could annoy him beyond words, and yet he still wanted to shut her mouth with a good, strong kiss to make her forget why she was upset.

He pushed the door open with a gentle knock, and was immediately greeted with a warmth from the fireplace above, and he could hear the faintest sounds of rippling water in a tub.

“Sweetheart?” he called, reaching the top step. Maeve was submerged up to her mouth in the water, slumped against the back of the tub. The only other thing protruding from the water surface besides her wet hair was the balls of her bent knees, her fingers tracing circles around the sinews of skin. Her dark eyes looked up at him, and he swore he saw fear cross her face for a moment before she shielded herself with an expressionless face.

“Vhenan. I’m bathing.” her hand came up to greet his open fingers as his traced loving patterns into her palm. He bent down and kissed her forehead, causing her to straighten up a bit at the comforting greeting.

“I could come back later if you’d like some quiet time.” he offered, but her hand gripped onto his, almost a little too quickly that gave off a red flag to him.

She stared at her wet hand, before croaking out, “...Stay. I...need to talk to you.”

He crouched down next to her, eye level. He gently moved long, wet hair from her shoulder and squeezed out remaining water before moving it to drape onto the lip of the tub behind her neck. His heart fluttered with concern at the sight of her eyes getting red.

“I’ve been acting strange, haven’t I? Vivienne pointed it out.”

Cullen grit his teeth. What a way to put it, that woman hid behind socialite decorum to insult anyone she didn’t see fit to entertain her. He sighed, bowing his head in shame, then earnestly looking her into her eyes. He hated seeing her hurt so much. But he still couldn’t understand what had her acting differently.

“Maeve, you need to tell me what’s going on. Let me help you in any way I can. You’ve done that for me when I suffered through my withdrawals.”

She started to retreat into the water, the lukewarm surface now barely touching the bottom of her chin. “You won’t...you won’t leave me if you get angry at what I say, will you?”

His heart nearly lodged into his throat in terror. What has got her saying that?!

He took a breath, then nodded, squeezing her hand in affirmation. He could see her chest struggle to not heave with a sob that she choked back, but the tears did slide down her cheeks in shame as she bowed her head.

“I’m...I’m pregnant.”

From that point on, he could only hear the fire crackling in the hearth, and the wind brushing back the linen curtains from the open windows. She’s... _ oh, Maker _ . He’s waited for this moment with a woman he loved for all his life, but he expected this to be more...well, joyous. Under different circumstances. Especially with one involving wedding rings already bearing scratches from time and toil. 

Yet still, he felt so many emotions swell in his chest as his mind raced. His heart battered hard against his ribs in joy, but his mind constantly yelled at him in worry on why she looked so forlorn at the news she delivered to him. He felt upset that he didn’t even think of that being possible, since they have been making love since their relationship became more serious. Hell, in most occasions in what was once planned as a regular date turned into just that because they hardly could get any time alone together during the height of the war. He couldn’t keep his hands off her, and neither did she. He should have seen it coming, but the sparks and magnetic energy that drew them together merely pushed them further than a limit could ever define. An inkling told him he shouldn’t be so surprised this happened.

His sister is going to kill him, though.

The tears came faster now, and she sniffled as she wiped her cheeks, “Y-you’re not s-saying anything--” and she broke off into quiet little sobs, her head slumping into her hands.

Immediately he snapped out of his shock, hushing her and sprinkling kisses over the crown of her head and onto the shell of her ears, “No, no, my love. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Why would you think I would be angry at this? This is wonderful news!”

She looked up at him, incredulous, “Cullen! This isn’t...this is not what I wanted! I-I mean,” she stammered, looking at her glistening hands, “I wanted this, but in  _ the future.  _ We only just started talking about what we want in a married life together. This isn’t fair that-”

“Sweetheart, look at me. Please.”

She shyly looked up at him, afraid. He cupped her face in his hands, and gently wiped a thumb across her aquamarine-decorated cheekbone to catch another incoming tear.

“Life isn’t something you can plan. Look at where you are now. Did you plan on becoming the herald? Did you plan on becoming a hero?”

She blinked, sniffed, and shook her head. He gently smiled, kissed her nose and let his hands slide to her elbows. She stood up at his motion to stand, and with an affirming squeeze to her arms, he strode over to the bed where a handmade quilt his sister Mia gave her lay. The quilt was patched with different squares of fabric from old clothes that she’s accidentally torn on adventures, to some of Cullen’s old cloaks and shirts, and some Elven cloth that she got especially bought for this creation. Upon meeting her many months ago with Cullen, Maeve was lucky that Mia took such a liking to her despite her status as a mage and as an elf. It was a great honor to receive the quilt before departing back to Skyhold, and Cullen knew it meant very much to her, as well as kept her exceptionally warm during cold nights.

“I had an idea of what I wanted...just a small life of living alone. Maybe mentoring other elven mages like myself. I knew I wanted to marry and have children. But I never expected all this to happen. It’s shifted my direction in life in an entirely different path, and the former ideal I wanted isn’t something I think about.” her voice sounded small, unsure.

She was barely out of the bath long enough to shiver before the warm quilt was wrapped around her shoulders, and she watched with mild surprise as Cullen dropped down to his knees and held her hips gently with his big, calloused hands with care. His smile showed such peaceful love, it almost made her heart swell and tears rise once more.

“If it wasn’t for the conclave, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you in the first place.”

Maeve couldn’t help but let a smirk cross her lips, “That’s a dark way of putting it, my lion.”

He sadly smiled and kissed her stomach, just under her belly button. A sweet, chaste kiss that still made her stomach flip with excitement.

“Whatever the Maker has planned, or Andraste, or whomever the Elven Gods watch over you, it will always be something we must be unprepared for to learn to appreciate the miracles of life. To plan an entire life ahead of us would make a boring and lonely one, at least,” another kiss was placed, now near the dip under her pelvis. He looked up at her, as if she were Andraste herself, “The idea of you being a mother has always been a thought I carry every day. I never would have imagined I’d be lucky enough to have you be the mother of my children.”

Maeve’s pure, light smile that showed pearly teeth made his body burn with both desire and joy, “Really? You mean that?”

“Every word, my love,” his grin now held another meaning as his fingers started to inch towards the curve of her ass began, and his voice dropped to a baritone silkiness, “I could show you, if you’d like, if words prove insufficient.”

Her blush and heavy lidded gaze gave him the answer he needed, and he let his hands gently squeeze before he trailed kisses slowly lower...and lower. Her hand wove into his hair at the needy whimper that strangled out from her throat, and her eyes squeezed tight at trying to fight off the  _ good  _ feelings that swirled in her stomach, along with the quickening that fluttered there.

“Please…”

A generous tongue gave her what she sought out, along with a nip at her inner thigh that made her fingers dig into his scalp with a soft, blissful yelp. His golden stubble both tickled and scratched lovingly at the point where her thighs met.

He pulled away, and before she could give a whine at his absence, she found herself being gently laid on her back, her legs crossed over his shoulders, and once more he was trailing kisses from her knees to her cunt, names scattered in between like ‘my love’, ‘my herald’ and ‘my light’.

She couldn’t help but weave both hands into his hair and hold tight for dear life as his lips wrapped around her cunt as his tongue lovingly stroked her folds. She couldn’t help her moans growing louder, breathier, and her arm flew into the air and grabbed at the sheets on the bed for her life. She couldn’t help her legs starting to quake as his tongue and kisses danced faster, his fingers digging into her thighs as if she was an oasis of water and he was parched from the desert heat. She couldn’t help but moan out ‘my lion’ with a heady breath as the spring that was coiled in her core came undone, making her hips stutter at his magic.

A grin crossed Cullen’s face, his chin wet with her essence, and he crawled above her to lay next to her, kissing her shoulder and wrapping the quilt around her even tighter. Maeve hid her face in the crook of his neck, her arms curled against his chest. He felt the need to shuck off his overcoat and dress robes in order to melt into her embrace in just his peasant shirt and smalls.

“Do...do you think I’d be able to handle a child?” he quietly listened to her confession against his neck, his hand rubbing circles against her back, “What if my attention needs to be devoted to the inquisition? It’ll be a weakness people will try and exploit. I’m terrified for a life that isn’t even in existence yet. What if I have no patience, no loving nature, no-”

“Stop that.”

Her hand squeezed into a fist against his chest, and he gripped it just as tightly in earnest honesty, “You are the most loving person I know. You carry the weight of your love for others every day, to the point I can see it exhausts you when you worry about everyone’s well being. Patience comes with parenting, I saw that through my brothers and sisters beginnings with my own parents. And more importantly, you will  _ never  _ be alone in this yourself. I will always be there to help you, for better or worse.”

She couldn’t help but giggle, and looked at him. The light had returned to her eyes to a glow with her peaceful smile. Worries were finally sliding off her back. “That sounds like a proposal, commander.”

He smiled, and gently kissed her, smiling through it as she giggled even more at the tickling of his stubble. His nose pressed into hers like a fennec’s kiss, her smile growing wider, and he said with a bright voice, “I’ve been rehearsing.”

 

They both knew at that point that though life was always going to be unplanned, that they had control of what to form it from then on. Whether that meant disbanding the inquisition long after the rediscovery of Solas and the loss of her mark, or whether that meant retiring from adventuring into the countryside with her commander and an army of mabari fosterlings and steeds. For now, she and her lion could dream of a bouncing baby boy wrapped in a quilt with bear-fur trimmings in the cross-stitch, waiting for the moment of his first breath in the arms of his herald and father.


End file.
